


In Which Dave and Karkat are the Two Protagonists in a Familiar Tale of Star-crossed Lovers

by theknightofdoom



Category: Homestuck, The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Genre: "metaphor", Cancer, First Meeting, Irony, M/M, Maybe more idk, Oneshot, Pre-Slash, but actually, davekat - Freeform, im trash, kinda obvious though, most likely, tfiosstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theknightofdoom/pseuds/theknightofdoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Probably a collection of one-shots of various scenes taken from TFIOS, rewritten to fit my otp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Dave and Karkat are the Two Protagonists in a Familiar Tale of Star-crossed Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea one day and then yeah. This is just a one shot of the "metaphor" scene, but if I feel so inclined I may smash my forehead into the keyboard and give you some more of this in other important/cute/sad/funny scenes.
> 
> Idk.

Strider looked back towards me, shuffling his body to face me more as he tilted his head. I would imagine that he was giving me a scrutinizing gaze, but since he was still wearing those aviator shades like they were glued to his face, I wasn't too sure.

“What’s your name?” He finally asked.

“Karkat.”

He shook his head, still looking at me (or so I would believe from how his face was tilted), a small frown painted on his lips. “No, dude, your full name.”

“Karkat Vantas. And Jesus, please don’t give me any god awful nicknames – I've heard them all before.”

He didn't reply straight away, lips pursued as if he was about to speak, but hadn't decided quite what to say yet. I crossed my arms and watched him closely. Was he staring at me?

The silence hung in the air for a moment before I broke it in favor of asking not so delicately, “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and I came to the conclusion that it was an expression he was familiar with. “’Cause you’re beautiful.” He said it as if it was the most obvious and normal thing in the world. As if telling complete strangers who you just met (especially, well, me) that they were beautiful of all things was a habit he had picked up and refused to curb.

I scoffed loudly, shaking my head and looking back towards the parking lot and vaguely wondering where my mom was. “Do you say that to all the clearly unattractive guys who you've never met before or am I some kind of special snowflake, a precious child star sort of exception? Tell me, when should my parents call up TLC and start planning my trashy TV series?”

He makes a small breathy noise out of his nose that I assume is his way of laughing without guffawing loudly, which would of course be completely against the coolkid persona he was trying to keep up. “Actually you’re the first – although I will have to say that ‘clearly unattractive’ is a complete bullshit thing to label yourself as. Trust me, as a teenage boy with overactive hormones, I think I can easily vouch for who is a fine piece of ass. My judgement is unrivaled in being 100% on fucking point.”

I choose just to shake my head again, quickly checking the time on my phone just a little anxiously. She was normally here by now, what was up with her being so late? The day she decides to take her time is the day this asshole tries to talk to me. It’s so terribly predicable that it hurts.

“We should go see a movie.” He said.

“I don’t think you’d like my movies.” I retorted quickly. It was true, I had an unhealthily uncommon obsession with romance movies.

“It can’t be worse than John’s taste in movies.”

“But what’s the point if you aren't enjoying it?”

He raises a pale eyebrow above the dark rim of his shades, the corners of his mouth flicking up again. “Trust me, I think I’ll enjoy it. Just see one movie with me. If you don’t like it you can back out part way through. Just say ‘This guy’s an asshole, get me out of here.’ And I’ll gladly refund your wasted time spent on watching one small, measly movie with me.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll see a movie with you.” It couldn't be that bad. Honestly, having something to do other than sit in my room to reread my favorite novels and watch every Will Smith film in existence would probably be good for me… or at least make my parents happy. “I’m free this weekend if-.”

“I was thinking more like right now.”

I blink in surprise, before looking quizzically up at him. “I don’t even know you. You could be a fucking axe murder for all I know, and I’d like to keep my limbs, as de-oxygenated as they are.”

“There’s always that possibility, but I don’t think I fit the role too well. In fact, I've never held an axe in my life. I’m better acquainted with swords. The shittier the better.” His hand moves to one of the pockets of his bright red hoodie, digging around for a second as he pulls out a small white cardboard box, large block print covering the sides. “Take a risk.”

I stare in disbelief, because there was no way my eyes could be seeing what I seemed to be thinking they were. He couldn’t be serious. Was this some kind of terrible joke?

I realise my mouth had been consecutively opening and closing my mouth as I flailed for words to say. “I- you- _are you fucking kidding me_?!”

He raises a questioning brow again, but now the facial expression makes me want to punch him even more thanks to the cigarette dangling casually out of the left side of his mouth. He didn’t even go to reply, letting me carry on, because now I _had_ found my words, and there were a lot of them. “I can’t believe this. You had cancer, you managed to survive having it, but yet it’s all you can do to throw yourself back towards the grasps of the goddamned illness like you can’t get e-fucking-nough of it! Not only that, but in order to require more fucking cancer, you’re paying copious amounts of cash to ass-wipe fat-cat companies that make their fucking fortunes from giving as many ignorant assholes like you as much cancer as possible in the limited time they had to live in the first place. Let me tell you, captain dumbass dickmunch, not being able to breathe _fucking sucks_!”

He rolls the offending object between his lips, hands in his pockets. “Did I ruin my chance?”

Unbelievable. “That insinuates that had one to begin with, shit sniffer.”

“Kitkat, they only hurt you if you light one.” He said casually, again assuming I had the slightest fucking clue what he was talking about.

“What?”

He reached up and took it out of his mouth, handling it like someone who knew how. “I never lit one.” He must of realized from my look of utter confusion how lost this was on me, and carried on to explain.

“It’s ironic. You put the thing that does the killing right between your teeth,” He leaned forward slightly, placing the cigarette back into his mouth. “But you don’t give it the power to kill you. Irony.” He splayed his fingers out in a dramatic jazz-hands motion, wiggling the thin white tube between his lips for good measure.

I wondered how often he gave that little talk, and if it was something he did to everyone in order to show off how cool and unique he was. It was most likely very often.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that right?”

“I get told _all_ the time, Karkitty.”

“Fuck you.”


End file.
